Elsie's Womanhood by Martha Finley
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Martha Finley >> Elsie\'s Womanhood
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Her efforts were appreciated, and met fully half-way, by her loving
spouse.
The four, taking possession of the rustic seat on the top of a little
knoll, where the huge branches of a giant oak protected them from the sun,
took a lengthened survey of the house and grounds, and held a consultation
in regard to ways and means.
Returning to the Oaks, the gentlemen went to the library, where old Mr.
Dinsmore was sitting alone, and reported to him the result of the morning
conference. Roselands was to be rebuilt as fast as men and materials could
be procured, Elsie furnishing the means--a very large sum of money, of
which he was to have the use, free of interest, for a long term of years,
or during his natural life.
Mr. Horace Dinsmore knew his father would never take it as a gift, and
indeed, it cost him a hard struggle to bring his pride down to the
acceptance of it as offered. But he consented at last, and as the other
two retired, begged that Elsie would come to him for a moment.
She came in so quietly that he was not aware of her presence. He sat in
the corner of a sofa, his white head bowed upon his knees, and his aged
frame shaking with sobs.
Kneeling at his side, she put her arms about him, whispering, "Grandpa,
my poor, dear grandpa, be comforted; for we all love and honor you."
"Child! child! I have not deserved this at your hands," he sobbed. "I
turned from you when you came to my house, a little, desolate motherless
one, claiming my affection."
"But that was many years ago, dear grandpa, and we will 'let the dead past
bury its dead,' You will not deny me the great pleasure of helping to
repair the desolations of war in the dear home of my childhood? You will
take it as help sent by Him whose steward I am?"
He clasped her close, and his kisses and tears were warm upon her cheek,
as he murmured, in low, broken tones, "God bless you, child! I can refuse
you nothing. You shall do as you will."
At last, Elsie had won her way to her stern grandfather's heart; and
henceforth she was dear to him as ever one of his children had been.
* * * * *
It is a sweet October morning in the year 1867. Ion, restored to more than
its pristine loveliness, lies basking in the beams of the newly risen sun;
a tender mist, gray in the distance, rose-colored and golden where the
rays of light strike it more directly, enveloping the landscape; the trees
decked in holiday attire--green, russet, orange, and scarlet.
The children are romping with each other and their nurses, in the avenue;
with the exception of wee Elsie, now a fair, gentle girl of nine, who
occupies a rustic seat a little apart from the rest. She has a Bible in
her hand, and the sweet young face is bent earnestly, lovingly, over the
holy book.
On the veranda stands the mother, watching her darlings with eyes that
grow misty with glad tears, while her heart sends up its joyous
thanksgiving to Him who had been the Guide of her youth and the stay and
staff of maturer years.
A step approaches, and her husband's arm encircles her waist, while, as
she turns her head, his kindly gray eyes gaze into the depths of her soft
hazel ones, with a love stronger than life--or than death.
"Do you know, little wife, what day this is?"
She answered with a bright, glad smile; then her head dropped upon his
shoulder.
"Yes, my husband; ten years ago to-day I committed my happiness to your
keeping, and never for one moment have I regretted the step."
"Bless you, darling, for the word! How great are the mercies of God to me!
Yonder is our first-born. I see you as you were when first I met and
coveted you; and here you stand by my side, the true wife who has been for
ten years the joy and light of my heart and home. Wife, I love you better
to-day than ever before, and if it be the will of God, may we yet have
five times ten years to live together in love and harmony."
"We shall!" she answered earnestly; "eternity is ours, and death itself
can part us but for a little while."
THE END.
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